A Little Piece of Heaven
by xx-Twisted Fantasy-xx
Summary: Because not all fairytales have happy endings... Part Un of my Monsters arc.


**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games or the A Little Piece of Heaven lyrics.**

**I'm starting a new set of one-shot stories that sort of coincide with Drowning Lessons and Our Lady Of Sorrows—two separate stories that are about the almost-relationship of Madge and Gale. These one-shots borrow the same idea that Madge and Gale saw more of each other than they both let on. These stories go on to describe the twisted dynamic of their relationship, so I guess this is a sort of elaboration of my past one-shots. At any rate, I tried to make this one a little different and more about how their story was never meant to have a happy ending. This is Part I to my Monsters arc. **

**You don't need to read Our Lady Of Sorrows or Drowning Lessons first, but it might help if you did. They are now Part I and Part II of my Demolition Lovers arc respectively.**

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><p><em><strong>Fairytale: (n) a made-up story usually designed to mislead.<strong>_

ѮѼѮ__

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><p>Every story begins with two things.<p>

A boy and a girl.

Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and an adventure ensues...

Too bad not all stories have happy endings...

**_Before the story begins, is it such a sin,  
>for me to take what's mine, until the end of time<br>We were more than friends, before the story ends,  
>And I will take what's mine, create what God would never design<em>**

(This one begins with a boy named Gale...)

He has spent years upon years upon fucking years trying to keep everyone he loves from starving.

That job, unfortunately, involves dealing with some people that he'd rather not talk to. The kinds of people with money (the Capitol's favor) and pity to spare. The ones who have never had to go without. The Privileged. And Gale Hawthorne hates those kinds of people, hates them because they have everything he doesn't.

It's the sort of hatred that turns everything to fire. And if he knows only a few things, one of them is that fire turns everything to ashes. It's destruction, perpetual sorrow, an endless siege of torment, inescapable. He also knows that, once you feel that rage, it's next to impossible to give it up.

Because it feels _nice._

It's passion. And without that, he has nothing. If he did not feel so deprived every time he and Katniss brought strawberries to Madge Undersee's back door, he'd be numb, regardless of the warmth he feels for his mother, his siblings, Katniss. His resentment of _her_ gives his anger purpose, and he's quite sure that it's unhealthy, but he doesn't care.

His mother always told him that sinners sin for a reason—and _she's_ his.

She belongs to him, and he is more than willing to take her, even if it's wrong.

Even if it's not meant to be.

What's love without a little tragedy anyway?

_**Our love had been so strong for far too long,**_  
><em><strong>I was weak with fear that something would go wrong,<strong>_  
><em><strong>Before the possibilities came true,<strong>_  
><em><strong>I took all possibility from you<strong>_

(And let's not forget Princess Madge... the girl locked away in a tower. The girl with a lovesick father and a wicked—sick—mother.)

Of course, neither of them know what love is.

To her, love is the sound of her mother's screams, her father's agony, frustration, tears, pills.

To him, love is a little more solid than that. He loves Rory, Posy, and Vick. He cares for his mother, who would do anything _anything_ for her children. He thinks he's _in_ love with Katniss, but he can't really be sure. Not when his father has been long forgotten, lost. Gale cannot recall a single loving thing his dad did for his mom, so how can he truly be certain of his undying love for his best friend?

He can't.

Besides, he doesn't believe in fairytales. There is no Once Upon a Time. The prince doesn't meet the princess and fall madly in love with her. The princess isn't cursed with eternal sleep. He won't kiss her. She won't wake up. There is no Happily Ever After. They will both die in misery.

He has never been more sure of anything in his life.

That sad little story is carved into his skin the day Katniss is reaped.

Gale knows she will die without knowing how much he love(d) her. She will get eaten alive, or maybe even worse. Maybe someone else will slay her dragon for her.

So when he reaches Undersee's doorstep, he is glad for the poison that runs through his veins. He's glad to feel something other than hopelessness.

Anger means he's still alive inside.

That's why he accepts her invitation, that's his claim, but no one can really be sure he's telling the truth about that.

_**Almost laughed myself to tears,**_  
><em><strong>(ha hahahahaha)<strong>_  
><em><strong>conjuring her deepest fears<strong>_  
><em><strong>(come here you fucking bitch)<strong>_

They fight.

A lot.

Gale takes obvious delight in hearing the tears in her voice. He calls her every name in the book (bitch. slut. whore.) all because she thinks Peeta and Katniss make such a cute couple. She believes in love conquering all. And that's _the dumbest thing he's ever heard._

She disagrees. "You have to believe in something."

"Well, what about your parents? Do you really think they love each other?" he counters. "Your mom's too busy with her drugs."

And that's when it starts.

She hits him. Hard. And he sees stars. He retaliates, though he knows he shouldn't and things go downhill (or maybe they get better) from there.

**_Must have stabbed her fifty fucking times,_**  
><strong><em>I can't believe it,<em>**  
><strong><em>Ripped her heart out right before her eyes,<em>**  
><strong><em>Eyes over easy, eat it, eat it, eat it<em>**

He hurts her.

She hurts him—and that's okay. 

**_She was never this good in bed even when she was sleeping_**  
><strong><em>now she's just so perfect I've never been quite so fucking deep in<em>**  
><strong><em>it goes on and on and on,<em>**  
><strong><em>I can keep you looking young and preserved forever,<em>**  
><strong><em>with a fountain to spray on your youth whenever<em>**

They both swear never to speak of what else happens between them. About what else they did during the time Katniss was kissing Dough Boy in the cave, and shooting mad boys with arrows, and falling in love with a guy who is not Gale. No one else has to know, and besides, her mom was the only one around. And she had taken too much Morphling that day to have any clue as to what her daughter was doing in the next room.

Screams are just terror to her.

**_'Cause I really always knew that my little crime_**  
><strong><em>would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs<em>**  
><strong><em>and I know, I know it's not your time<em>**  
><strong><em>but bye, bye<em>**

When he leaves her for Katniss, she isn't surprised.

What she is surprised about is the fact that she's sad that the bruises are fading away. The one she got that first day has all but vanished, and the scratches she got That Day are healing nicely. And she _does not_ want that... because then it will be like it never even happened. She doesn't understand why it bothers her so much, but it's like an ever-present knife in her chest, a constant flow of blood that just won't stop.

She remembers a story Daddy told her on one of Mommy's good days.

It started with Once Upon a Time... the very same Once Upon a Time that Gale spits on... there was a young girl named Maysilee who met a handsome boy (not a prince) named Haymitch. They weren't friends, but they trusted each other with their lives... something about a Game... and the story ended with Haymitch coming home to riches.

She guessed, at the time, that they lived Happily Ever After.

It was only later on that she found out that the girl died choking on her own blood.

**_and a word to the wise when the fire dies  
>you think it's over but it's just begun<br>but baby don't cry_**

In retrospect, two things should have occurred after she figured this out.

One, she should have stopped believing in those stupid (not) fairytales her father told her.

And two, she should have learned that love is supposed to be pure. Good. Innocent. Meaningful.

But things tend to get warped in these little tales, and not everything should be taken at face-value. Too bad _they_ don't know that.

_**You had my heart, at least for the most part**_  
><em><strong>'cause everybody's gotta die sometime,<strong>_  
><em><strong>We fell apart, let's make a new start<strong>_  
><em><strong>'cause everybody's gotta die sometime, yeah yeah<strong>_  
><em><strong>but baby don't cry<strong>_

So_ their _love... it's twisted. Vile. It's pain, and anguish, and most of all—unacknowledged.

After That Day, she can only blush as she passes him on her way to Mellark's Bakery. Because, as much as Madge would hate to admit it, doing that _(yes, that)_ with Gale meant something... though she isn't exactly sure what.

But it makes her skin itch.

He averts his eyes as soon as he sees her coming, but that doesn't mean she doesn't look at him for a moment longer than she should—just so she can catch a glimpse of the "bruise" on the hollow of his throat.

Good. It's still there.

She feels satisfied.

_**Now possibilities I'd never considered,**_  
><em><strong>are occurring the likes of which I'd never heard,<strong>_  
><em><strong>Now an angry soul comes back from beyond the grave,<strong>_  
><em><strong>to repossess a body with which I'd misbehaved<strong>_

She never expects that satisfaction to grow into a sick pleasure, she never guesses that she would feel positively _gleeful_ when he comes crawling back to her, cast aside in favor of Peeta Mellark. But _she does._ And she isn't disturbed by it in the least.

No, she just wants him to grovel, to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness—she deserves that, at least.

Once, and only once, does she stop to think about how terribly wrong these thoughts are. And how they used to be so unlike her... sure, she had an occasional moment of snark here and there, but this is an entirely different level. Madge Undersee isn't messed up, she's Perfect.

But the devil on her shoulder urges her to be flawed. It sings sweet little songs about the... _convenience_ of the Quell in terms of their relationship.

It's almost _too_ convenient, if you really think about it.

_**Smiling right from ear to ear**_  
><em><strong>Almost laughed herself to tears<strong>_

They pick up where they left off.

Kicking and scratching and punching and hitting.

And this particular time, they don't even stop to think about her mother—who isn't as out of it this time around.

She hears everything. Every scream. Every moan. And she wonders just how much trouble her only daughter (princess) has gotten into; though she can't bring herself to ask.

**_Must have stabbed him fifty fucking times_**  
><strong><em>I can't believe it<em>**  
><strong><em>Ripped his heart out right before his eyes<em>**  
><strong><em>Eyes over easy, eat it, eat it, eat it<em>**

Why does it feel so _right?_

**_Now that it's done I realize the error of my ways_**  
><strong><em>I must venture back to apologize from somewhere far beyond the grave<em>**

This question, dear readers, doesn't have an answer. Not a moral one, at least. And that's a pity.

_**I gotta make up for what I've done**_  
><em><strong>'Cause I was all up in a piece of heaven<strong>_  
><em><strong>while you burned in hell, no peace forever<strong>_

Because no matter what, their flesh will be scarred forever.

And as they watch the victims drop like flies, it somehow makes everything worse. It let's them know that time is running out—something bad is on the horizon, so close they can almost _taste_ it. They don't know what it is though, and no amount of purgatory can make up for their sins. They were damned from the start, doomed to be tortured. Broken. It's a fate that they can't avoid, and they better realize it quickly.

Because they say that nobody wants to die alone...

**_We're coming back, coming back_**  
><strong><em>We'll live forever, live forever<em>**  
><strong><em>Let's have wedding, have a wedding<em>**  
><strong><em>Let's start the killing, start the killing<em>**

Most people don't want to die at all—not even those Wicked Witches that melt away just before the church bells ring.

But this not-a-fairy-tale has to have death, whether we like it or not.

(Or not.)

_**"Do you take this man in death for the rest of your unnatural life?"**_  
><em><strong>"Yes, I do."<strong>_  
><em><strong>"Do you take this woman in death for the rest of your unnatural life?"<strong>_  
><em><strong>"I do."<strong>_  
><em><strong>"I now pronounce you."<strong>_

If only they died together...

That might have made it a little bit less horrible, but who the fuck cares anyway?

_**'Cause I really always knew that my little crime**_  
><em><strong>would be cold that's why I got a heater for your thighs<strong>_  
><em><strong>and I know, I know it's not your time<strong>_  
><em><strong>but bye, bye<strong>_  
><em><strong>And a word to the wise when the fire dies<strong>_  
><em><strong>you think it's over but it's just begun<strong>_  
><em><strong>but baby don't cry<strong>_

Fire.

Destruction.

He can't help but to feel a little bit happy as he watches the flames destroy what little there is of his home—he's right. Always has been and always will be.

She feels only agony. The sheer blinding pain of being one with the fire. The stench of skin melting off bones burns in her nose. She is dying... and Gale Hawthorne—that good-for-nothing excuse for her knight-in-shining-armor—is nowhere to be found. Madge should have expected as much, but somehow, it never crosses her mind. She can only think of that stupid word that she told him about.

Hope.

Despite the wrongness of their relationship, some stupid part of her held onto it.

And now, with nothing left, she can't even cry.

Only scream.

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><p><em><strong>~The End~<strong>_


End file.
